


Scuttle in the Dark

by uumuu



Series: Fëanorians beyond the First Age (AUs) [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Gen, M/M, Non-Angsty Maglor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: There is something weird about Maglor. Gildor isn't sure what, Celebrimbor knows all too well.





	Scuttle in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



Gildor's back arched, thrusting his chest forward into Maglor's caresses and embedding Maglor's cock even deeper inside his arse. He was unable to resist the touch of Maglor's lips on his nipples – the slow dance of his tongue, the artful bite of his teeth – despite a growing sense of uneasiness. His thighs were drenched with Maglor's release, spilling out of him whenever Maglor pulled out only to re-enter him again and sheath himself from tip to base inside his well-stretched passage. His legs were almost numb. Even his arms, which rested on Maglor's shoulders, ached. Yet Maglor seemed insatiable, and tireless, and it bothered Gildor more and more as his own exhaustion began to eat away at the relief to know that Maglor was safe and the blinding desire that had overwhelmed him when Maglor hugged him and drew him into his hut. 

“Little one,” Maglor whispered against his chest, eyes trained on the spot under which his heart was hidden, as if he could see through skin and bones and speak directly to that organ thrumming so wildly for him. 

Gildor moaned, his cock leaking more precome in spite of the many times he had come. Maglor moved inside him, and Gildor was spurred into seconding him, riding him frantically again for a few moments before his movements began to slow down until he could barely lift himself. He kept going so long his legs could hardly support him, each rise and fall excruciatingly delicious, leaving him breathless and sitting on Maglor's hard pulsating cock.

There was something weird about Maglor.

Maglor had been gone for months, then a year, then two then three. Gildor had been so euphoric to see him again that he didn't insist when Maglor replied with half-words and smiles to his questions, claiming in his most ravishing voice that nothing had happened to him. Except something had happened. Maglor's dark brown eyes had taken on new hues and now looked like living opals, as if the fire burning in them wasn't just metaphorical. He wore the Silmaril around his neck openly, whereas he had been shy before – almost regretful indeed not to have tossed it into the sea as it was commonly believed. A strange ring glinted around his middle finger – a simple thing, really, a golden band, not even worthy of remark, but Gildor's skin tingled strangely whenever it glided over his body leaving behind it welts of prickly skin, like the touch of stinging nettles. 

“Everything is fine, little one,” Maglor said, his mouth poised on the base of Gildor's neck and Gildor's thoughts began to cloud, leaving him with the nagging feeling that there was something else he was worried about. 

He tried to focus again, but Maglor shifted in the armchair, and locked his arms around him. Gildor realised that he was about to stand up. He braced himself, and was ready to wrap his legs around him when Maglor lifted him easily, as if he had weighed nothing at all.

Effortlessly Maglor carried him to the bed, spread him out on it and crawled between his unresisting legs, still fully clothed. A black heavy cloud, melding into him and pounding him into the mattress.

The friction in Gildor's arse was feverish, ravenous, more than he could take, and yet unspeakably good.

“Sleep now,” Maglor murmured, without slowing his thrusts in the least. 

The way his profile looked in the halo from the single candle burning on the wall-stand conjured the image of another face in Gildor's mind: Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor had looked absolutely terrified before Maglor disappeared. The Gwaith-i-Mírdain had been restless, too. Gildor feebly wondered if that had something to do with Celebrimbor's uncle. He wasn't even be sure if Celebrimbor knew that his uncle was alive and well and had made his abode not too far from Eregion. Someone else...someone else had disappeared too, but before he could pursue that thought a pall was thrown on his consciousness. His eyes fell shut, as if a spell had gently tucked his eyelids in for the night.

*

“Nephew,” Maglor said, looking up as Celebrimbor stepped into the room.

Celebrimbor halted, puzzled for an instant, then wary. 

Maglor slowly took off his gloves and held his hand up in greeting.

Celebrimbor's eyes immediately went to the ring, a knot of fear and revulsion making him almost reel. The Silmaril frightened him even more, glittering wildly on Maglor's chest even without much light to reflect. In happiness, as if Fëanáro himself were back and the gem felt the heart of its maker beat against it. Menacingly, like a storm trapped in a bottle for far too long and eager to be unleashed on the world, to uproot forests and topple mountains. 

“Won't you thank me for...getting rid of your little problem?” A pregnant pause, filled by the song of Maglor's eyes. “With the 'king' dead, we are the only masters of his gifts.”

Voices sounded in the corridor. Celebrimbor forced himself to let go of the door and close it. He was relieved not to look in his uncle's eyes for just a moment. The sensation of Maglor's gaze on his back was worse, however, and he quickly turned around again. 

“I would have expected a little more gratitude from you. But no matter.” Maglor stood up. Celebrimbor didn't quite catch how he closed the distance between them. Maglor was suddenly standing before him and caught his face in both his hands and pinned him down with that sandpaper gaze of his. He stiffened, as if he wanted to recoil and couldn't. “I need you to do something for me.” Celebrimbor tried with all his might to look away, and inadvertently turned his eyes to the window. The not-Star of not-Eärendil shone down on him. Maglor looked up at it too, and smirked. “You will, right?”


End file.
